Tag Archives: power

Emily Dickinson favorites (1101-1775)

The earth has many keys.
Where melody is not
Is the unknown peninsula.
Beauty is nature’s fact.

But witness for her land,
And witness for her sea,
The cricket is her utmost
Of elegy to me. Continue reading

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selections from Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography

I intend to tell the story of my life with a certain amount of pride Continue reading

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selections from The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

WORKINGMEN OF ALL COUNTRIES, UNITE! Continue reading

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selections from Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit

Feminism, as writer Marie Sheer remarked in 1986, “is the radical notion that women are people.” (122) Continue reading

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selections from Electra and other plays by Sophocles

And I am as you see me now. Continue reading

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notes from my phone

can a person be a laxative?

can a person with exceedingly attractive breasts be a laxative?

legit, those are some notes on my phone from the weekend.

i was standing on a sunny San Francisco rooftop–high ass fuck–listening to my friend, who happens to have exceedingly large and attractive breasts, rant about so and such and etc and ya. some dude i didn’t know was nodding to her stream of sounds and meaning, and i was nodding too. but i wasn’t really comprehending or even computing in the least degree. on the contrary, i was nodding while wondering whether a person’s voice and the things they say could incite a man to need to take a shit.

luckily, i managed to hold it in.

here’s something much less disgusting:

thighs two pack
carrots
celery
mushrooms packet
three onions
bottle of wine
box of chicken broth

that’s Amanda’s list of ingredients for this weird wine-y soup that’s actually incredible delicious. well, depending on who you ask.

she once gave me some to try. a week later, i remembered it existed, reheated it, and found it quite delectable. so i decided to make it myself. in fact, i roped Natalie into making it too. we drove to the Alemany Farmers Market (late as usual), picked up the essential ingredients, and returned to my kitchen to attempt the soup.

now, Natalie is a cook. and i’m a poet. or musician. or wizard. or some shit. in any case, earlier in the soup-crafting process, we started to butt heads about some crucial decisions. Amanda was unavailable, so we couldn’t consult her about the exact process and finer points of putting this soup together, so we were left to our own devices. Natalie wanted to use her cool cooking skillz to add a bunch of spices and use less wine and all this shit. i was like, no, no spices. just wine. wine. it. up.

so we made separate soups. at the same time. a soup-off.

how did it go? fucking amazing, obviously. i had soup for days.

so many notes on my phone, so little time. here’s one from the Tool concert this year:

old life new life
Lateralus
body mind

tool is inside black hole

astonishment at walkijg inside of a cave

yeah, what? let’s see if i can retrace my steps.

see, Tool makes pretty strange music. they have strange visuals to match the strange music. when your sensory devices meet with these strange musicks and strange visuals, your brain begins to brew strange thoughts. for example, i stopped taking for granted the concert experience and instead begin to marvel at the strangeness, if you will, of it all. Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, the name we bestowed upon this large (for humans) man-made cave, filled to the brim with swaying apes captivated by the rumbling thunder of lights and astonishing lightning of sound emanating from the four apes on the raised platform. imagine an alien being, like Mozart, stepping into this cave. or imagine a caveman. would he be jealous of our cave? imagine a being from another planet or another universe? what would they think? would they be unimpressed? would they think fondly of memories from their own life? that’s the “astonishment at walkijg inside of a cave.”

so i was stoned at a Tool concert and thinking about aliens, this is true. i can’t just blame Tool, space has been consuming my mind more than usual. so for some reason i started thinking that maybe Tool is what you get when you go inside of a black hole. actually, no, i don’t remember what this was about at all. i’m sure it was epically profound though, stoned ronny of the past.

one of the show highlights were these words Maynard spoke between songs:

INSERT MAYNARD’S LINES HERE

oh man, here’s a golden one:

the way a beautiful girl can just ruin your night

i’m not giving any context on that one except that it’s from 201301102151. maybe i’ll just remember something for once.

this is kind of clever, from 201301181153:

sometimes i don’t actually feel like i truly truly lived in the moment i loved because if i did i would still be there.

once i heard a beautiful song with Japanese lyrics that sounded like…

it’s some tsunami

Continue reading

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Metro Area

i love when the time is 01:23. i love dancing to “Dancing Queen.” i love when people don’t steal your shit. i love how a couple robots could tell a band of perfect professionals to just keep walking along the … Continue reading

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selections from Il Principe, Niccolò Machiavelli

“Nothing causes a prince to be so much esteemed as great enterprises and giving proof of prowess.” (81)

hence this blog post aggregating my favorite selections from The Prince. Continue reading

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Qur’an verses, Sura III, 26-27

Say: “O God!
Lord of Power (and Rule),
Thou givest Power
To whom Thou pleasest,
And Thou strippest off Power
From whom Thou pleasest :
Thou enduest with honour
Whom Thou pleasest,
And Thou bringest low
Whom Thou pleasest :
In Thy hand is all Good.
Verily, over all things
Thou hast power.

“Thou causest the Night
To gain on the Day,
And Thou causest the Day
To gain on the Night ;
Thou bringest the Living
Out of the Dead,
And Thou bringest the Dead
Out of the Living ;
And Thou givest sustenance
To whom Thou pleasest,
Without measure.” Continue reading

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sharing the love / do not attribute this brilliance

I’m constantly afraid I’ve managed to live long past my expiration date. It feels like my best years, my smartest, my most ambitious years are nearly forgotten. I’m older than I was yesterday. My life, the one I once imagined andhoped for, was held hostage somewhere along the way to here. Habit got it. First an old dusty drug habit then a worker bee grind. Now my daily neurosis is ticking and clacking like my grinding teeth do at night. Habit is so powerful.

Or maybe I just use habit as an excuse. I can’t remember a time when I was carefree and joyous. My childhood was spent miracle growing the very same anxiety that consumes me now. I spent me teens and twenties snorting an escape route. That wasn’t a good look. My thirties and forties taught me about the laws of gravity. What once went up, came down. My fifties were about regret that I wasn’t more, wasn’t better. I didn’t have my looks, I didn’t have my mind, I didn’t have love or money. I didn’t have the courage to press play or press stop.

Now I’m old and hate myself, everything I’ve touched and everything that’s touched me. Maybe hate is a bit much. If I had hate, true fire in the belly, there would at least be something. What’s worse is dislike. I really don’t like being alive in this skin. Its a ringing in my ears, a burrowing tick that won’t go die. Unless I kill it nightly…. with a bottle of F’ing Vodka. Continue reading

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